


Twinception

by Sophangelo



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: But no, Crack, Fluff, Historical Inaccuracy, History, I chose to write this instead, I should be writing the Silver Lining sequel, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Phanfiction, The History Of The American Garage, and then they see mine, and they're like, i love the thought of someone scrolling through ao3 and looking at beautiful stories, please ignore the first chapter, shitload of hamilton references, so here you go, this is a joke i swear, wtf is this, ya'll in for a wild ride
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-10-20 21:09:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10670817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophangelo/pseuds/Sophangelo
Summary: Dan Howell has had one best friend all his life: Phernando Lester.But what happens when he finds out he's been lied to for ten years, and his one and only best friend is actually dead?A lot of shit goes down.





	1. what the fuck you're not phernando

**Author's Note:**

> So I sat down to write the Silver Lining sequel, but then I saw D&P's new video so obviously I had to watch it.
> 
> And then the whole twin thing came up.
> 
> This fic is a product of procrastination.

The pieces of the broken flower vase lay on the ground, a puddle of water soaking three wilted roses.

“If you’re not Phernando…who the fuck are you?” Dan shot at his ‘best friend’.

“I am Phil Lester.”

 

* * *

 

Hi. (Salute thingy)

 

My name

 

is

 

[Dan].

 

All my life… I’ve had but one friend. And his name is Phernando Lester.

 

Correction.

 

His name _was_ Phernando Lester. 

 

Because for the last ten years… Phernando has been dead, leaving me with his twin, Phil Lester. 

 

This is my bestselling novel about the death of my best friend, and the story of his shadowed twin brother.

 

* * *

 

PHILADELPHIA: dan pls talk to me

 

Angsty protagonist: no ur not worth talking to

 

PHILADELPHIA: but ur talking to me NOW

 

PHILADELPHIA: u need to know the story of my brother

 

Angsty protagonist: I already know. He died of a cold when we were eight, and then you lied to me 4 10 yrs

 

PHILADELPHIA: u cant die of a cold u spork

 

Angsty protagonist: I know that

 

PHILADELPHIA: he didn’t die of an ordinary disease

 

Angsty protagonist: goddamn it

 

PHILADELPHIA: it was

 

Angsty protagonist: I hate this fic

 

PHILADELPHIA: MURDER

 

~~Angsty protagonist: fuck~~

 

* * *

 

“So what do you know of your brother’s murder?”

 

“…”

 

“Holy shit.”

 

“…What?”

 

“yOU MURDERED HIM.”

 

 

 

 


	2. Phernando was basically Marty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a mess what have i become

“I didn’t kill my brother!” 

Dan rolled his eyes. “That’s _exactly_ what a murderer would say.” 

“It’s also _exactly_ what a non-murderer would say!” Phil exclaimed, flailing his arms for emphasis.

Dan sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m overreacting. When was the last time you were with Phernando?”

Phil massaged his temples, as if willing his memories to come flooding back.

“It was ten years ago, in the morning on a Sunday. He went to a normal elementary school, I went to a boarding school far away from here. Barely anyone knew the Lesters had a second son.”

Dan frowned. “That sucks.” 

Phil nodded. “Yeah. It was the last time I would see him for a while. He said ‘Bye, Phil’. Then we hugged.” 

It was a bittersweet memory. The way his brother hugged him, it was like Phernando _knew_ he was going to disappear. He voiced this.

“You know he hugged me that day, too,” Dan said, the memory gracing his mind.

“He went over to my house for a few hours. Your mum came to pick him up, then he hugged me, like, really tightly. I thought it was weird, since he was never really affectionate.”

“Huh,” Phil said, taking a moment to think. “Yeah, that’s true. He wasn’t mean to me, but that hug was the most affectionate he was to me.” 

“Same.”

“Do you-” Phil stopped, not liking the rest of his sentence.

“What is it?”

Phil sighed. “Do you…reckon he- you know?” 

Dan got the hint on what he was talking about. 

“No! He- he had all the reasons not to!” 

Phil bit his lips, uncomfortable. “Just a thought.”

Dan shook his head. “I don’t like that thought.”

“Me neither. Let’s change the subject before it gets awkward and tense.” 

Dan smiled. “Should we go to your house? Pretty crowded here.”

Phil looked around. The diner was filling with people.

“Yeah. I don’t like the idea of anyone overhearing this conversation.”

 

* * *

 

“Mum, dad!” Phil echoed into the empty house. “They’re at work. We’re alone.”

Dan nodded, then spotted the pieces of the vase he broke yesterday on the coffee table. Guilt rumbled in his stomach as he stared at the pieces. It was a really pretty vase.

“After Phernando died, I couldn’t keep staying in our room. I stay in the guest room now. I mean, it’s not really a guest room anymore, it’s more like my room.”

“So Phernando’s room is the secret haunted room you would never let me see?” 

Phil laughed, remembering the lie he fed Dan. “Oh, yeah. What was the story?”

“A ghost visited you in your sleep, causing you to move to the guest room because you were terrified of your room,” Dan recalled, chuckling as he did so. “So, where is this ‘haunted’ room?” 

Phil led him into the hallway, stopping at the last door on the left side.

“Right here,” Phil told him, twisting the doorknob to open the door. “We can look through his-”

Dan wondered why Phil stopped suddenly, his jaw agape and eyes wide, only to see a strange man in a lab coat, who was snooping through Phernando’s things.

As it turned out, Dan’s shock lasted longer than Phil’s, because as Dan stood there, wondering what the fuck was going on, Phil grabbed a nearby baseball bat that had been leaning on the wall, then, using said bat, proceeded to whack the strange man continuously.

“What. Are. You. Doing. Here!?” Phil exclaimed, punctuating each word with a swipe of the bat. The strange man was running around now as Phil tried (and failed) to hit him with the baseball bat. 

“I can explain!” The strange man was standing on Phernando’s bed, using a (quite dusty) pillow as a shield. 

Phil dropped the baseball bat. “How? I told you to leave my family alone a million times four years ago. Like, I spent ninety percent of eighth grade telling you to go away!”

“Wait,” Dan interjected, finally summoning the will to speak. “You two know each other?” 

Phil sighed, exasperated. “Unfortunately, yes. Dan, this is Doc. Doc-” 

“Dan, I presume.”

Dan was having a serious headache. Doc resembled that one character from that movie he knew. The name was on the tip of his tongue. 

~~“I hate this fic,” Dan muttered.~~

“Phil, I’m sorry for snooping, but I found out where your brother is,” He paused. “Or should I say… _when your brother is_.”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “You said my brother was murdered.”

“Yes! I know that! Scientists are capable of making mistakes, Philip! Compare this to the time Charles Darwin failed to acknowledge the conflict between his new theory and an idea that-”

“Doc, get to the point. What happened to my brother?”

Doc shook his head. “I made a time machine.” 

“Goddamn it!” Dan exclaimed, causing the other two to stare at him.

“What is it?” Phil asked him.

“Nothing. Go on, Doc.”

“Okay…” Doc said, giving him a strange look. “As you know, your brother’s a genius.”

Phil nodded, looking at the certificates and medals on the wall above the bed. “Yeah.”

“He found an invention of mine somehow, and, being the genius he was, tracked me down to give me the invention. I don’t remember the invention now, but I remember we got into an argument about the dynamics of the object. He won that argument.”

“And I was like, ‘Wow, I just lost an argument to a first grader.’ So we formed an alliance.” 

“So, Phernando was basically Marty,” Dan joked, chuckling. 

Doc raised an eyebrow. “Who in the name of Albert Einstein is Marty? Anyway, I invented the time machine, I convinced him to try it out. I set it back to one week into the past. The machine came back, but he didn’t. I went to the time he was, and what I found led me to believe he was murdered. The machine broke, so I stayed the one week. And then…well, here we are.”

“So?” Phil questioned. “Here we are now, telling me my brother is not dead but lost in time? What happened?”

“Your brother is lost in time.”

“I know that- but when in time?”

“We must get moving! All the energy I’ve stored should not be wasted!”

 

* * *

 

 

“Where’s the time machine, Doc?”

 

Dan’s headache was seriously growing. Just an hour ago, he’d thought he was figuring things out. Had he known this would happen, he never would have said ‘hi’ to Phernando Lester back in preschool.

“So… is this machine made out of a DeLorean?” Dan asked as an attempt to lighten the mood.

“What?” Doc said incredulously. “It’s 2017, Daniel, who has a DeLorean anymore?”

“Okay, sorry…what is the machine made of?” They were standing in Doc’s garage, the time machine supposedly covered in a large white sheet. 

“See for yourself!” Doc exclaimed, pulling off the white sheet dramatically. 

“That’s a soccer mum van,” Phil stated.

“Yes, well, I’m quite careful with my savings. This van was the cheapest at the car dealership. Well, anyway, shall we get going?” 

Dan and Phil nodded as they hopped into the van. 

Doc drove the van out the garage and onto the road, explaining the dynamics of the machine. “This shows where you are, this shows where you’re going, and this shows where you’ve been.” 

“The machine can travel through space too, so where we’re going, it’s definitely not here in London.” 

“Doc, where are we going-” was all Dan could manage before the van started travelling at an unbelievable speed, causing trouble to his splitting headache. Before everything blurred, he could have sworn the ‘where you’re going’ sign said ‘1789’. 

Dan felt like he was falling, he could hear nothing except someone shouting, it was either him or Phil, though, guessing the extreme noise, it may as well have been both of them. 

And just when Dan thought it could get any worse, the van stopped with a crash, bringing him back to reality. Phil, who sat beside him, looked incredibly terrified, red in the face and sweating. 

“Sorry about that,” Doc apologized nonchalantly from the driver’s seat. “Must have miscalculated something.”

“You think!?” Dan shouted, wiping the sweat of his forehead.

“Calm down. We’re here, and the people in this time are quiet and it would be a disaster if someone saw the time machine.”

“You mean the soccer mum van,” Dan muttered. 

“Daniel, can you just- okay?” 

Phil looked out the window. There was nothing around except a house a few miles away from them. 

“Does someone live there?” Phil queried, pointing at the house.

 “Yes, but he knows of the situation. Look, here he comes now.” 

Dan and Phil spotted a man approaching them. The both of them noted the strange style of his clothing, from the strange ruffles at his neck and the way his shoes pointed.

“Get out of the car, we’ll make some introductions.”

The boys obeyed, exiting the soccer mum van. 

“Emmett!” The man greeted Doc with outstretched arms and a smile. “Good to see you!” 

“Good to see you, too!” They hugged, then, as they pulled away, the man turned to Dan and Phil. 

“This is Dan Howell and Phil Lester,” Doc told him. 

The man grinned at them, outstretching his hand for a shake. 

“Hello, Dan and Phil. My name is Alexander Hamilton.”

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as you can see I love Back To The Future


	3. Jesus Phil how much do you know about the history of the American garage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more gay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the history of the American garage: http://www.blueskybuilders.com/blog/history-american-garages/
> 
> *pulls up in soccer mum van* Get in loser we're going shopping

“I wish you’d given me a warning of some sort before arriving, Emmett,” Alexander said, leading them into his house. “You could have given me time to clean up.”

Doc rolled his eyes. “Your house is clean enough, Alex. Besides, I haven’t invented a way for us to communicate yet.”

“Yet?” Dan questioned, taking a seat at the dining table. Phil chuckled, sitting next to him.

“What about the soccer mum-”

“Time machine,” Doc corrected Phil. “Don’t worry, it’s well hidden in the garage.”

“There can’t be a garage, because garages were first introduced to America in the twentieth century. You see, wealthy car owners realized they needed a place to store their automobiles. The owners realized that carriage houses, once used to house horses, buggies, and horse travel paraphernalia could be easily be repurposed.”

Dan raised an eyebrow. “Jesus, Phil, how much do you know about the history of the American garage?”

“I’m not done. Can I continue?”

“Fine,” Doc relented. “Alex is preparing some food for us, we’ve got time.”

“Thank you,” Phil nodded, proceeding. “Anyway, entrepreneurs saw a great business opportunity. They opened their repurposed carriage houses to the public, and anyone who owned a car was able to rent a space in the house for somewhere around fifteen dollars to twenty dollars per month. Renters got a reserved space in the carriage house, which was heated, cleaned, and maintained by the owner.”

“These early ‘parking garages’ solved the problem for a while, but issues arose over time. Some of the carriage houses repurposed to store vehicles still had livestock housed within them as well. As you can image, over time, vehicle owners started to notice that their prized possessions started to smell like animal manure, so they sought an alternative. Additionally, as cars soared in popularity in America, and became more affordable to everyone, it became apparent that more storage needed to be available and accessible to everyone.”

“And then the garage was born. Derived from the French word “garer” which means _to store_ , early American garages were pretty basic. Modeled after the carriage houses of the past, homeowners built shed-like buildings called garages to store their vehicles. In 1908, the famous Sears Roebuck & Company saw the need for   convenient automobile storage and developed a portable garage that could be set up anywhere. At first, the portable garage was popular with automobile owners that did not have a carriage house or newly built garage on their property. With the passing of the Federal Road Act of 1916 and the Federal Highway Act of 1921, however, cars exploded in popularity. It became apparent that cars were to be a fixture of American life, and Americans quickly started building or purchasing storage solutions for their cars.”

“Are you hungry?” Alexander called from the kitchen, interrupting Phil. “I haven’t got much, but I do have some sandwiches.”

Phil opened his mouth to say something, but Dan spoke before he could.

“Please _do not_ start talking about the history of sandwiches.”

Phil looked down, quite disappointed.

Alexander reappeared from the kitchen, holding a tray of sandwiches. He stared at Phil, who stared right back at him, a little confused.

“Emmett, why does this gentleman look exactly like Phernando Lester?”

Phil almost choked on his sandwich, and Doc smiled.

“This is Phernando’s brother, Phil.”

“Ah,” Alexander realized. “I see. And they’re here because they’re seeking Phernando?”

Phil nodded. “Yeah. So…you’ve met him?”

“Yes. Ten years ago, a strange vehicle appeared around this area. Phernando told me everything, and I promised I would keep him secret. But the last time I saw him was four years ago, he left for London.”

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Alexander stood up, making his way to the door. “I’ll get that,” he said.

He opened the door, finding a disgruntled Aaron Burr.

“Alexander, we need to have a talk.”

Alex narrowed his eyes. “I’m afraid I’m rather busy, sir.”

“Busy doing nothing?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Never you mind, Aaron. Best you go away.”

Alexander went to close the door, but Aaron held the door open.

“This is important.”

“Maybe another time.”

Alex slammed the door, then locked it.

“Who was that?” Dan asked him.

Alexander waved the question off. “No one significant. As I was saying, Phernando is currently in London.”

Dan wrinkled his nose. “Wait, we were in London before. So why did we travel through space?”

Doc sighed. “It’s not like I have the ability to keep tabs on Phernando. I thought he was still with Alexander.”

“Still, it was a waste of time,” Dan muttered. Thankfully, no one heard him except Phil, who nudged him in a reprimanding manner.

“As far as I know, the next ship for London leaves in a few hours,” Alexander told them. “So we should get moving.”

Doc nodded. “Of course. I would like to check on the soccer mum- I mean, _time machine_ \- before we leave.”

“Okay,” Alexander said, agreeing. “The machine is in the garage.”

And Dan was the only one who laughed at Phil’s distraught expression when Alexander said ‘garage’.

 

* * *

 

“Mister Hamilton-”

“Just call me Alex, please.’

“Okay. Alex, are you aware garages haven’t actually been invented yet?”

Alex chuckled. “I know. Phernando introduced the term to me when we met. I haven’t told anyone about it, because cars haven’t been invented yet.”

“So how do you open it? Garages usually have metal doors.”

“Simple. This,” he placed his hand on the wood, “is a sliding door. Another term Phernando introduced.”

Alex slid the door open, revealing a room with the soccer mum and-

“Aaron Burr!” Alex exclaimed, eyes wide. Sure enough, the man was inspecting the van, just as shocked as the other three staring back at him.

“I, um-” Aaron stammered, then seemed to regain composure. “Well, Alexander, I see you really are busy. What in God’s name is this?”

So they gave him the whole rap. Dan started first about Phernando being his best friend, then Doc weighed in about his alliance with Phernando. Alexander explained the story of how he met Phernando at an alarming speed. Phil talked about lying to Dan for ten years, a hint of guilt in his tone. Then, Dan ended with all the events of the messiest day of his life. Today.

Aaron blinked, overwhelmed by the story he’d been told. At first, he didn’t seem to believe it, then eyed the clothes of Doc, Dan and Phil. He recalled how Dan and Phil talked. Finally, he sighed.

“I regret asking. I’ll best be on my way.”

Before Aaron could leave, however, Alex grabbed his arm.

“Join us. Lord knows you have nothing better to do. Besides, I don’t trust you enough. You’ll probably be telling a story of how Alexander Hamilton is running of to London with three foreigners or whatever.”

Aaron opened his mouth to argue, but closed it when he realized he would have nothing better to do than spread rumors about Alexander.

“Fine. But only because you offered.”

Alex smiled, letting go of Aaron. “Great,” he then turned to the other three.

“You can’t traipse around 1789 while wearing _that_ ,” Alex told them, gesturing to their clothes.

“Are you insulting my shirt?” Dan asked, offended. He favored his weed jumper.

“It’s alright, but it’s not this century. I’ve got some clothes for you to wear.”

 

* * *

 

Dan was very gay.

He’d be a pretty shit liar if he said he wasn’t enjoying the view of Phil wearing eighteenth century clothing. He was still pissed Phil had straight-up lied to him for ten years, but dude had an _ass_.

“How do I look?” Phil asked him. Completely non-kink related, he wanted the ruffles at his neck to choke him to death. He must look pretty stupid while gawking at Phil like that, he figures.

“Really…” Dan’s throat was dry, goddamnit. “Good…”

Phil grinned, blushing. “You look really good, too.”

Phil was appreciating the sight of Dan in the clothes, but he was not appreciating the vermillion blush that had crept onto his face. He must look like an idiot, he figures.

“Thanks,” Dan replied. He wondered if showers had been invented yet. He certainly needed one, what with all the sweating.

“Wow,” Alex said to Aaron, looking at the way Dan and Phil were practically drooling at each other. “How gay.”

Aaron laughed, nodding. “Yes. It’s a good thing we’re not like that.”

“Yeah. Thank God.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not sorry


	4. Nice fucking nose, Alex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I haven't updated this fic in a month.
> 
> *something clicks in my brain*
> 
> A month without uploading, he comes back with a tag-

 

Alexander imagined death so much, it felt more like a memory.

Of course, it only made sense that he constantly thought about how he would leave this world. After his mum's death from the disease he'd also had (and almost died from) and that hurricane he couldn't seem to drown in, trauma haunted him left and right.

But, in all honesty, he'd always figured he'd die from old age or in a duel (perhaps one with John Adams, but that cow was probably too stupid to win a duel) not in a fucking boat to London with three dudes from the future and Aaron Burr.

Since no one had invented weather prediction yet, they hadn't anticipated a goddamn storm to disrupt their journey. Thunder was crackling mercilessly in the sky, rain pouring harshly, and waves like armageddon. The Find Phernando Dream Team (as Phil had dubbed it) was huddled under a table, soaked, cold, and completely sure that this was their end.

"Phil?" Doc said, and Phil turned to him. "I'm sorry for sending your brother back in time."

Phil sighed, leaning his head against one of the table's legs.

"I know. I appreciate that you tried to fix it, even though we are about to die."

Doc nodded. "Uh-huh. I'm also very sorry for accidentally hacking into your phone in an attempt to contact you a few years ago, therefore breaking it."

"Excuse me?"

"Glad we cleared things up."

Before Phil could angrily reply to Doc's confession, the waves tilted the boat, and the table they were hiding under slid to the side. Dan was almost thrown off the boat. Fortunately, Aaron and Phil were able to grab him before he fell.

"I can't believe you hacked into my phone!"

"What the hell is a phone!?"

"Honestly, Phil," Dan said, panting slightly as he leaned on Alex, looking a bit green. "Your phone should be the least of your worries right now."

Phil shook his head. "You're right, I'm sorry. We're about to die. Which is why I would like to tell you- you're pretty hot."

Instead of green, Dan was now pink. "Well, I think you're pretty hot, too."

Phil smiled, and Alexander just had to ruin a nice moment between the two boys.

"What are you talking about? You're both in good temperature."

Dan rolled his eyes. "Alex, in the future, hot means 'attractive'."

Alexander laughed. "You two!? Attractive? Wow, they must have incredibly low standards in the future."

"Yeah? Nice fucking nose, Alex," Dan spat at him, and he honestly couldn't believe he was having this conversation. Would those be his last words?

"Don't you dare speak about my nose like that!" Alexander angrily exclaimed. "It's of perfect length and girth, and I suspect if I pulled down my pants right now-"

"What the hell does nose mean in this godforsaken century?!" Dan shouted, loud enough to be heard by those nearby.

Phil whispered the meaning to him, and Dan's nose wrinkled in disgust.

"I meant your damn _nose_ , not your dick."

Alex reddened. "Oh. Well, my actual nose is rather fine, that's a cheap shot."

"I hope this conversation doesn't get documented," Dan mumbles, and no one hears him as another strike of thunder hits the sky. It's especially startling, as it's so loud and so close, and Aaron decides to throw caution to the wind.

"Alex, I love you," Aaron says, loud enough to be heard over the disaster, but not too loud to be heard by everyone on the boat, as he did keep some caution. He's Aaron Burr, after all.

Alex pauses before answering, looking sick, but Aaron assumes it was, hopefully, the extreme waves that were rocking the boat and Alex couldn't handle it.

"I love you too, Aaron. This is romantic love, right? Because I need extra clarification."

Aaron nods. "Absolutely."

"You know," Phil says, interrupting The Hamburr. "I never got to finish telling the story of the history of the American garage."

"You may as well, no one has anymore confessions, I'm sure," Aaron told him, and Dan decides it's best he die with the story of how he gave an axe to a child.

"Thanks. Where was I? Okay. Early American garages were basically sheds, with a barn door that could be swung open and closed. The structures worked to store vehicles, though they did very little to keep the cars warm, and were difficult to maintain. Opening and closing such a big door each day lead to ware and tear, and if snow was on the ground, swinging the door open was nearly impossible."

The ships tilted a bit to its side, throwing some people off. The Dream Team slid to the other side of the boat, but Phil continued.

"Sliding doors were invented in the early 1920’s, and while those definitely were an upgrade, having a sliding door in place meant the garage needed to be twice the size of the door so it could slide open and closed- Ow! Nail on my ass- and in 1921 the overhead garage door was invented by C.G. Johnson. Five years after that, in 1926, Johnson invented the first electric garage door opener meant to help those who had trouble lifting their heavy doors. The invention took off, and soon every car owner in America wanted a garage with an overhead electric garage door opener."

"Oh my look at all dead people floating in the sea- by 1925, American real estate agents began reporting that a large majority of potential home buyers asked about garages. If the property did not have a garage, it likely did not get purchased. “Real estate men testify that the first question asked by the prospective buyer is about the garage,” wrote a 1925 writer in the “Atlantic Monthly.” “The house without a garage is a slow seller.”

"At the start of the 1940’s, architects and home designers started incorporating the garage into home design. Americans wanted a functional garage that also looked nice. At that point, many garages were being built attached to homes that allowed entry to and from the garage from the home. American’s wanted convenience and style. Contractors built garages in a variety of styles; Mediterranean, Old English, Colonial, French, and Craftsman were among the most popular. As the American economy grew, so did the size of American garages. By the 1960’s, the average family could afford more than one vehicle, so garages expanded. In fact, during this time, the average American garage accounted for an incredible 45 percent of the square footage of the entire home."

"Today, more than 82 million homes in America include a garage. Over 79 percent of homes have at least a single car garage. Seventeen percent of recently built homes have three-car garages. Most Americans report using their garage as the entryway to their homes, and they do not just use their garages for storage. Eighty-five percent of homeowners report using their garage for other purposes. Garages have been transformed into studios, apartments work spaces, and man caves, and some of the world’s biggest companies like Google and Nike were born in garages.As history tends to repeat itself, we have even seen some modern garages being built to replicate the carriage houses of the past."

The five of them were far too invested in Phil's garage story (no, not the story, the fucking storm that was supposed to kill them all) to notice London was now in view, and they would get there without dying.

-

The sun was literally mocking them.

After they had gotten off the boat and dried off a bit, they went outside to discover the perfect weather. The five o' clock sun was shining magnificently as it began to disappear down the horizon, the sky a canvas of colors and the smallest of stars were beginning to show themselves.

"This is literally the best London's ever been," Phil states. "And not just by weather standards. Like, this is actually the best London's ever been."

"It's all gone to hell now," Dan says, agreeing.

Phil chuckled. "We sound like old people reminiscing about the past."

Dan laughs. "Well, we are reminiscing about the past."

While Dan and Phil were having some A+++ banter, Aaron and Alex could barely look at each other.

"I can't believe I told you I loved you," Aaron grumbled. "That was a momentary lapse caused by the picture of death, Alex. I don't love you."

"A freudian slip, I would like to call it," Alex said, smirking.

"Hey now," Phil interjected. "The term 'freudian slip' was coined in-"

"Oh, enough with the history," Aaron and Alex snapped in unison.

"We are history," Alex told Phil grumpily. "And we would like to stop hearing about it."

Phil raised an eyebrow. "Aren't we all history? In a few more centuries, people could be talking about me like they're talking about you in 2017."

"I doubt it."

"Enough with the irritation, people," Doc told them. "We have a Phernando to find. And I suggest we do it without doing anything that could disrupt our current timeline. I don't want to go back to 2017 and find out Alex and Aaron were executed for sodomy."

Aaron snorted. "Like I would ever have sex with this fucker."

"Of course you would. You love me," Alex gave a poor impression of how Aaron had said it on the ship.

Aaron rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry. Did I invite myself on this damn trip?"

Doc sighed. "Would you two just shut-"

And then he shut up. The other four concluded that something had caught his attention, so they looked where he was looking.

They spotted a girl, probably around Dan and Phil's age, and she was dancing. The way she moved, it soothed them, calmed some of their trauma from the ship ride.

She looked up, only to see them staring at her, and smiled warmly. Her expression changed abruptly when her eyes landed on Phil. She ran towards him and immediately hugged him.

"Phernando, you twat."

Phil pulled away from her embrace. "Phernando Lester? That's my brother."

The dancing lady's eyes widened. "Oh, you must be Philip. He's told me all about you."

"I'm sorry," said Doc, stepping in. "You know Phernando Lester?"

The lady nodded. "Yes. We're friends. I'm Louise Pentland."

This was a fucking dream. And Dan wanted to wake up. There was no way in hell this lady was Louise Pentland, the same Louise that was one of his friends in 2017.

"Your expression, though, when you saw him- it's like you hadn't seen him in years," Doc noticed.

"Well, I haven't-" Louise stopped. "Oh my, you must be from the ship that got caught in the storm."

"We are from that ship."

Louise gasped, concerned. "That's awful. Why don't we go back to my home, where you five can get some new clothes?"

Alex cleared his throat, stepping in between Doc and Louise. "Listen, miss, you seem like a nice girl, but we're not looking for any trouble, so why don't you just skedaddle?"

Doc rolled his eyes and Louise looked rather insulted. Alex mouthed a 'you're welcome', to the rest of the Dream Team.

"Thanks, Alex," Dan said sardonically. Aaron laughed, and Alexander didn't seem to notice the obvious sarcasm.

"Louise, we would like to hear about your explanation," Doc said, and Alexander's face fell. "Please, lead the way to your home."

Alex opened his mouth to protest, but noticed Dan and Aaron laughing and talking. Jealousy stirred in his stomach and he kept quiet.

For fucking once.

-

Louise's home was lovely, and Alex forgot all his suspicions about her when she offered them something to eat. The whole group had been peckish, but it seemed like he'd been starving to death since they'd left America.

"I met Phernando in 1785," Louise explained as they sat down to eat. "We became close friends as soon as we met each other. We even lived together."

The group nodded, intent on only listening (Alex would have weighed in, but he was too busy shoving his face with food). Louise continued.

"I knew him only for a year, and what a wonderful year it was. In 1786, he told me he wanted to go to England, and then he left."

Louise sipped her tea, wiping away a dainty tear with a perfectly manicured finger. "We still send each other letters, though. He tells me he's become close friends with the king."

Aaron chuckled. "Phernando must have a really bad taste in friends."

Alex laughed at that. They had a nice, happy moment of shits and giggles before they went back to glaring at each other.

Doc rolled his eyes. "Alright. Tomorrow, we travel to England by horse carriage."

Dan frowned. "But that's gonna take ages!"

"Do you want to find your best friend?"

"Yeah..." Dan mumbled.

"Then I suggest we get to bed soon. We've got a big day ahead of us."

-

Dan usually wouldn't like the idea of sleeping at eight in the evening, but after the day he'd had, he was more than happy to crash.

Louise had let them stay in her guest room, which only had one bed. Doc had taken that bed, and now he was out cold, snoring and all.

Meanwhile, Alex was at the table in the room, writing. Dan was confused on how he'd seemingly pulled out parchment and a quill from nowhere. He, in fact, did write like he was running out of time.

Aaron was at the table with Alex, trying to convince the other man to go the fuck to sleep.

"Alexander, go to sleep. It seems like you need it."

"Sleep is for the weak, Aaron."

"Then a weakling like you would really enjoy a fitful night of rest."

And now both men were bickering like there was no tomorrow, and that didn't exactly help Dan's headache.

"You okay, Dan?" Phil asked. He had taken the liberty of sleeping right next to Dan, who, even though he was a lover of his personal space, didn't actually mind.

Dan made a movement that was a strange cross of nodding and shaking his head. "Maybe."

Phil chuckled, doing the thing where he stuck out his tongue when he laughed. Phernando had never done that. How could Dan not have noticed that? It was adorable.

Dan felt Phil press his hand against his. Their fingers intertwined as Phil drifted off to sleep.

Dan smiled to himself, his eyelids getting heavier with sleep. Maybe he didn't hate this damn fic that much.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Well, I didn't think I believed in time travel, but here we fucking are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have lost all grasp on geography on this one. So if you're hear to tell me that King George did not preside in England, you can stop bc this is a crack fic and honestly I just threw caution to the wind while writing all these chapters  
> ALSO HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!!!!

  
Pressed against Dan's back was a sleeping Phil Lester. Now, Dan wouldn't mind this, he enjoyed the occasional cuddle, but Philly's lower half was promising something very- well, he'll leave it to your imagination.

He'd woken up at an ungodly hour, his friends still blissfully asleep. Though, he probably couldn't say the same for Aaron and Alex, as they were both still at the table, leaning on each other and asleep on their chairs. That had to be uncomfortable.

Dan had racked his brain for the reason why he'd woken up at this ungodly hour. He'd narrowed it down to either Doc's snoring, or the waking realization that Phil's blatant boner was flat on his ass.

Under the curtains, the window revealed that it was still dark outside. Dan closed his eyes to go back to sleep, but between Phil's morning wood and Doc's snoring, he realized that wasn't much of an option anymore.

But he didn't want to get up and wake everyone, his cuddling situation with Phil was too good to let go of.

So he snuggled even closer into Phil's embrace, attempting to go back to sleep. He'd snoozed for what seemed to be a nice amount of time, before he woke up to shouting and the banging of pots and pans.

 

* * *

 

"That was a wonderful attempt at waking us up, Emmett," Aaron said harshly as they walked out into the cold morning. "A very creative approach, indeed."

"Yes," Alex agreed, continuing the sarcasm, "You screaming and banging pots and pans together was just what I needed after falling asleep on a chair."

Doc smiled at them. "If you must know, I tried waking you up normally, but that proved to be a failure. My scheme was effective."

"Effective for all of Europe?" Dan asked. He, too, was salty about that rude awakening.

Phil, bless him, was the only one as chipper as Doc. As if waking up to a raging erection had helped his perky attitude. He racked his brain for an interesting factoid.

"Did you guys know King George The Third gained a collaboration with-"

"Phil, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but the shut the fuck up, it's too early."

"-Buddy de Sylva. Together, they completed 'La, La Lucille' which is their Broadway musical," Phil continued despite Dan's protestation.

"God isn't even awake yet," Dan groaned, gesturing at the sky, which was still sporting an indigo color.

Phil raised an eyebrow. "Dan, you don't believe in any god."

Dan rolled his tired eyes. "Well, I didn't think I believed in time travel, but here we fucking are!"

"Shhh!"

The four of them turned around to see Louise, still wearing her nightgown and holding a candle.

"Do you want to wake up the entirety of London?" She asked them, slightly irritated.

"Ah, yes, but Emmett over here already did that with his pots and pans," Alexander replied to her.

Doc sighed. "You know, Alexander, I know you'd be much happier if you'd gone to bed at a respectable hour."

"Well, excuse me if I'm a man of my work. You, on the other hand, keep making these silly inventions that send little boys hundreds of years into the past."

Something in Doc's eyes flickered as his jaw clenched, signaling that he was about to fuck Alexander Hamilton up.

"At least I would never cheat on my wife-"

Ah, shit. Aaron, Dan and Phil were ready to trip. They had to stop an incoming fight.

"Guys, I don't think this is anything worth arguing about-"

"We should really get going now-"

"Phil's right, we have worthier pursuits-"

Their efforts were pointless.

"Emmett, you don't even have a wife!" Alex exclaimed angrily. "What kind of accusation are you making?"

Doc's fists balled up at his sides, his eyes narrowing at Alex. "I'm just saying, Alexander- watch out for whatever the hell your future is."

Doc turned on his heel and jumped onto the carriage, leaving Alex confused and utterly vehement. The rest of the group hesitated as Alex climbed into the carriage, Louise looking on incredulously at the whole scene.

"Well?" Alexander spat at the other three. "What the hell are you all waiting for?"

They all shuffled into the carriage after thanking Louise for her help. Doc ordered the horses to move, and move they did.

Aaron and Alex sat together, holding hands. It seemed like Alex (who was looking more than a bit tense) was basically crushing Aaron's hand, but Aaron remained calm and whispered assurances into his ear.

Meanwhile, Dan was too exhausted too function. His head fell on Phil's shoulder as eyelids grew heavier until Aaron and Alex were nothing but a huge gay blur, and, before he knew it, he was fast asleep.

 

* * *

 

  
"... So I try having a civil conversation with this arrogant, airhead of a man, and it's extremely difficult, because...hello? Have you met Thomas Jefferson?"

"I have not."

"Then you're incredibly fortunate. 'Mr. Age Of Enlightenment', they call him, yet he seems to have quite the trouble of enlightening me. I swear, Aaron, I have never had the bad luck of meeting such a close-minded, frivolous dick, you wouldn't believe! And everyone was singing 'Thomas Jefferson's coming home!' and they through him this huge party, and if people went through all that effort to welcome someone back home you'd think, you'd think, that they'd be an amazing person, but no, he's just mindless creep, how could George appoint him to be the Secretary of State? And he comes strolling in and he's like 'What'd I miss?' and I was like 'A war, douche. That's what you fucking missed'. Aaron, have you ever had the affliction of meeting such a maddening, egotistical dickhead?"

Aaron stared at Alexander quizzically before answering, "Once or twice."

Dan finally opened his eyes after half-listening to Alexander's tirade on Thomas Jefferson, deciding on letting the others know he was now awake from his very long, neck-destroying nap.

"Hey! You're up!" Phil exclaimed as Dan rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, interrupting Alexander's long-winded rant, to which the man did not appreciate.

"I wasn't finished talking," Alexander said obnoxiously as Dan began to fully wake up.

"When are you ever finished talking?" Dan asked him, and Alex opened his mouth defensively before quickly closing it, as if he wanted to prove a point, even though he still had so many interesting points on Thomas Jefferson to one-sidedly discuss with Aaron.

"How long have I been asleep?" Dan questioned.

"Mostly all day," Aaron replied. "It's almost evening. In fact, we're nearing England."

Dan sighed. "And yet I still want to sleep."

"We should get you some covfefe," Phil casually suggested. Dan stared at him, confused.

"That's a typo."

No one seemed to notice.

"Covfefe is so much better than tea," Alexander stated simply. Aaron and Phil nodded, agreeing.

"I mean, I am British," Phil said, "But I do prefer a nice cup of covfefe over some darjeeling."

The three of them started a rather enthusiastic conversation on 'covfefe'. Dan wondered if he was still dreaming, or if they'd created a hole in the time-space continuum from their time travel. Either way he wasn't surprised.

(The author of this fanfiction was, after all, a huge fucking troll and it would be completely understandable if you hated her.)

Before Dan could even consider going back to sleep for the sake of saving his poor head, which was pounding, the carriage came to a sudden stop and Alexander fell of his seat.

Alexander yelped at the unpleasant surprise, and Doc apologized from his seat with the horses, indicating he'd put the fight from this morning behind him.

"My apologies, Alex!" Doc said, sounding fully sincere.

Alex groaned, replying, "Quite alright, Emmett," as Aaron pulled him back up.

They heard Doc hop off the carriage, and Phil began to do the same, Dan following right after, and then Aaron with an overdramatic, whining Alex leaning against him.

"I care a great deal about you, I'll grudgingly admit," Aaron told Alexander quietly. "But that fall was nothing and you're a drama queen."

The four of them stood (Alexander did so with a frown, as Aaron had pushed him away) the royal palace stood at a staggeringly tall height in front of them, the gates closed and two men were on guard, greeting them with intimidating expressions.

"The King will not accept any visitors," one of the guards said indifferently.

"Well, we're not here for the King," Dan blurted out at a slight sarcastic manner. The guards raised their eyebrows and took steps forward in prefect unison, as if it had been practiced.

"Who..." the other guard said, his thick accent bearing an uncanny resemblance to that of Alan Rickman's when he had been Severus Snape. "Are you...here...to..."

The Dream Team waited awkwardly for the man to finish his sentence. Apparently he also inherited Snape's ability to slow down time when speaking.

"...See?" Snape finally spat out. They all stood there in silence until Doc cleared his throat.

"We're not looking for any trouble-"

"Because..." Snape interrupted, and Doc suddenly quieted. "You..."

Anyone could have stepped in and easily stopped Snape from speaking, but no one did, not even Alexander.

"Are...the..."

Dan could have sworn he saw Not Snape roll his eyes.

"...trouble..."

Not Snape sighed (in relief? exasperation? whatever, Dan still related to him immensely).

"Gentlemen, we urge you to leave the premises- hold on, doesn't that young lad over there parallel the fiend that the King likes to buddy up with?"

Snape gave a slow nod in agreement. Phil widened his eyes and stepped closer to the guards so they could take a good look at him.

"They are either related or Phernando's playing one of his dirty tricks again," Not Snape told Snape, who gave another nod.

"We're twins," Phil said. "That's why we're here, actually."

Not Snape looked at Snape with some uncertainty.

"Ask...him..."

"Oh, enough with the gimmick!" Not Snape snap(e)ped.

Snape rolled his eyes. "You're no fun. Anyway, ask him a question no one except the real Phernando would know the answer to."

"Fair enough," Not Snape turned to Phil. "What is the true purpose of an eggplant?"

Phil honestly needed to know how his brother was getting on to in this century. Or maybe not, depending on the graphic images that were currently popping up in his brain.

"Uhhh...food?"

Snape and Not Snape nodded at each other. "They're good to go."

Phil lowered his voice into a whisper. "If you don't mind me asking about the eggplant situation..."

Not Snape smirked. "Oh, you'll find out sooner or later." Phil shuddered visibly at the thought.

Snape led them through the gates and into the palace area. Soon enough, they were standing in the throne room, a bored looking King George III sitting at his jewel-encrusted throne. He looked up to see his visitors, and his unamused facade quickly changed to that of an excited one.

"Well, well, well..." King George said, eyeing the Dream Team as if they were prey. "What do we have here?"

Not Snape explained the situation. "These fellows are looking for Phernando. One of them seems to be his twin."

George stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I see. Would anyone of you care to explain?"

Alexander opened his mouth. "Well-"

George shook his head, pointing a bony finger at Phil. "No. Him."

Phil froze as he felt Dan gently push him to the front of the group, where he was blatantly facing George.

"My name is Philip Lester..." Phil said, and George nodded, gesturing him to continue. "And my family and I have been estranged from Phernando for ten years now. We've finally tracked him down and would like to convince him to come home."

George raised an eyebrow. "Setting aside the fact that Phernando has led such a wholesome life here and would likely refuse to leave...does the group of strange men behind you have any relation to him?"

"Best friend," Dan answered.

"Father," Alex said with a faux British accent.

"Godfather," Aaron replied, imitating Alexander's accent.

"Grandfather," Doc said in a random Cockney accent. George seemed confused about that, but didn't mention it.

"And where is his mother?"

This question caused Phil to make up a story on the spot. "Well, our mother is suffering from a terminal illness. She hasn't got much time left, and..." He choked, faking tears. "Her dying wish was to see her son for one last time."

King George actually believed the sob story that everyone else rolled their eyes at.

"How touching. I'll let you talk to him."

Phil wiped away the phony tear on his cheek, his grin incredibly wide. "Y-you will?"

"If," George said. That one word filled all of them with dread. "You play my game..."

"Game?" Dan questioned him incredulously. George glared at him fiercely.

"Yes, non-relative of Phernando, we will be playing a game. You will be presented with questions about the one and only me. Answer them correctly and Phernando gets to go home with you all, and you get a shitload of tea."

"Can't wait to throw all that tea into the sea," Alex mumbled to Aaron, who chuckled quietly.

"What was that?"

"Just...very excited about your quiz, Your Majesty," Alexander said with his terrible British accent.

George narrowed his eyes at Alex. "It's not a quiz, it's a game, and if I hear you referring to it as 'quiz' again, I'll have you all beheaded before you can even lose my game."

Alex looked taken aback. "I'm sorry. The penalty for losing...is execution?"

George smirked, leaning back into his throne. "It is now."

"Alex!" The group hissed angrily at him as he began to panic internally due to his fuck-up.

"That's right," George said smugly, as if he was rubbing in their fearful faces that we has going to be killing them in an hour. "If you do poorly in my game, then my designated executioner will be chopping you heads off. Oh! You should meet him now."

Snape went off to get whoever this executioner was.

Now, Phil imagined him to be some scary-looking guy with a thick accent like Snape's. He'd have scars all over his muscled body, and not the sexy kind of scars. His teeth would be show lack of proper dental care, and he would be holding a machete of some sort.

However, when Snape came back with a man who lacked the description Phil had thought of, the Dream Team was in for a crappy surprise.

There was the executioner, standing next to Snape and wearing a shit-eating grin.

 

 

 _Phernando_.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohhh my god you guys
> 
> This was supposed to be a product of procrastination but I'm getting so into this. Like it's freaking fun to write, this bullshit. Also I have another idea for phan crack if you think you want that. It's a dab and evan thing, if you're interested in that. If you are, let me know in the comments!!


	6. Executed early. Yeah, we get it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to get as many chapters in before school starts, which is like in a week and I'm literally in the livin room stressin. Also for the dab and evan crack fic thing, that'll definitely come after I finish this one.  
> To give you a little preview of the plot, Tabitha gets abducted and dil, dab and evan try to investigate, and then they get abducted, and then some weird shit happens.  
> Anyway, hope you enjoy this one! It's not as funny as the other chapters, but it's in Phernando's POV, at least.

__

  
"Well, would you look at that," George sneered as Phernando stood staring at the Dream Team with a bewildered look plastered on his face. "A family reunion."

Honestly, Phernando always thought that if he saw Phil again, it wouldn't be in this damn palace where he was supposed execute them. That was far from his plans of family fun.

"What do you need, sir?" Phernando asked the king, his voice quavering a little at the sight of his brother.

"I was thinking we could play a little game...with your visitors."

Well, shit. The game that George was referring to was The King George Game Show, one that would end in the players dying despite any of their efforts.

King George was, after all, on the fine edge of insanity.

Not wanting to behead his friends, Phernando decided to take the risk of suggesting another game.

"Why don't we do something else?" Phernando said, to which George frowned at. "A drinking contest, perhaps."

"The game show would be more fun, Phernando," The king replied vehemently.

Phernando's eyes met Dan's. With his pupils he tried to say, _I tried_.

Dan responded with a confused expression, one that said: _A game show?_

Phernando answered with a single shrug. Dan nodded, seemingly understanding, even though he was most definitely going to be dead in an hour or so.

He faced George, who was looking at him expectantly. Phernando took it as his cue to make his way beside George. He looked down on the armrest of the throne: a button, disguised to look like a stray jewel with the single purpose of being a useless decorative object.

It was so much more than that. His finger found it, and when it did, the throne room changed. A big game show-style wheel appeared out of nowhere, there were girls in bikinis smiling cheerily, Phernando was wearing a twenty-first century suit, etc. Basically, the whole room transformed itself to resemble the set of a game show.

Phernando looked up to see his friends. They didn't even seem that surprised. _Jesus Christ, the shit they must have seen to get here and not be the least bit jarred_ , he thought to himself.

Phernando cleared his throat, preparing his voice. "Alright, welcome to The King George Game Show!" He exclaimed in a voice to that of your everyday game show host.

"One of you," He said, gesturing to The Dream Team, "Will play the game and play dice with your future! So please, pick a representative."

The Dream Team exchanged a few words. After a minute or two, they stopped talking (except maybe Alexander, who was still muttering the seldom incoherent complaint to Aaron), and Philip stepped up with his brace face and slightly quivering lip.

Phernando almost lost his shit when he remembered: Phil was a history nerd. He remembered books upon books about the subject back at home, textbooks, biographies, the occasional fanfiction-turned-bestseller; He almost had nothing to worry about.

Despite all that, Phernando stayed composed, keeping his facade in check. "Okay, then! Here are the rules of the game."

Phernando went on to explain the rules: Round one allowed the representative to ask help from their teammates, however in the other rounds, if they did so, they would be executed early. The contestant had one minute to think of an answer for each question. If they failed to meet the time limit, they would be executed early. The King was allowed to modify the rules whenever he pleased, if anyone objected to this, they would be-

"-Executed early," Dan finished for him sardonically. "Yeah. We get it."

George glared at him as Phernando failed to hide his smile. He had dearly missed Dan's smartass attitude.

"Right," Phernando nodded. "Those are the three major rules of the game, follow them and you may win!"

The odds of may certainly didn't settle well with Phernando, and it obviously didn't settle well with The Dream Team either. All he could do was hope for the best when the worst was yet to come.

"Will the representative step up to their podium, please?" Phil did so, staring at the single button atop said podium. "Once you have your answer, just press the button and tell it to us!"

"Are you ready?" Phernando asked the Dream Team. They nodded, Phil's hand ghosting over the button. He was, without a doubt, ready to die.

"Alright, welcome to The King George Game Show!" Phernando exclaimed in his game show host voice. An invisible audience applauded and cheered, causing the team to look back in confusion.

"First of all, we must spin the Wheel Of George! It will determine which category your question will be in! Susan, spin the wheel, if you will." He chuckled at his own pun, and he saw Phil smile with him, while Dan just rolled his eyes.

One of the bikini girls spun the wheel with a big, wide grin. The arrow landed on a category called, 'The King's Questionable Childhood'. Phernando loved the name of that category and George frowned heavily at it.

"As a boy, King George III was very timid. He was tutored by a Scottish nobleman and the Duke of Edinburgh, who helped his confidence to grow in preparation for his future. Who is this mystery man?"

Barely a second had passed after Phernando asked the question when Phil jammed his hand against the button.

"John Stuart!" He answered confidently.

"That is..." Phernando paused for dramatic effect. "Correct! It was John Stuart!"

The rest of the Dream Team cheered and exchanged high-fives while Phil stood there happily, a big smile plastered on his face. George looked very cranky about this.

"That was an easy question, Phernando," George angrily whispered to him. "You gave it to him on purpose."

Phernando sighed. "Okay, sir, I'll give them harder questions, if that's what you really want," He didn't want to, but best appease the king if he wanted to increase the chances of him leaving this hell.

"Next question calls for the spin of the wheel!"

Susan did so again, this time the arrow landing on 'Pick A Card'.

There was a deck of cards sitting idly on Phil's podium. Phil picked one and read it aloud.

A date important for all of the UK,  
And for the king I am the day,  
When he finally sat upon his throne,  
And a kingdom he had owned.  
When am I?

Once again, without a moment of thought, Phil pressed the button aggressively and said the answer.

"The twenty-fifth of October, 1760!"

"Once again, you are right. King George took place on this throne on that day in 1760!"

Two hours passed, and they continued to play the game. Phil went through every round, enthusiastically answering every question correctly. As each collective cheer of the Dream Team took place, King George looked grumpier and grumpier.

_"Where was King George born?"_

_"Norfolk house, St. James's Square, London!"_

_"What are the names of King George's parents?"_

_"His mother's name was Augusta of Saxe-Gotha and his father was Frederick, Prince of Wales!"_

_"At age ten, George took part in what family production?"_

_"Joseph Addison's_ Cato _!"_

They were down to the final question of the last round. If Phil were to answer it correctly, he would be the first winner of The King George Game Show, and go home with Phernando and a shitload of tea.

Phernando was incredibly excited, knowing Phil would ace the last question and his worries would instantly vanish once he did.

"Alright, last question. Susan, spin that-"

"Philip," King George said, abruptly cutting off Phernando mid-sentence. "I am flattered you know everything about me, but it's time you take a step back and let another person from your team represent you."

The panic on Phil's face was evident. I am down to the last question, please let me play, he said with his pleading eyes. Meanwhile, the Dream Team was also in the midst of silent hysteria.

So, Phernando stepped in. "Sir, I don't think that's very fair-"

King George glared at him. "You're objecting, Phernando. That's against the rules. Do you want to be executed?"

Phernando opened his mouth but hadn't had much to say. "No, sir," he said quietly.

King George nodded smugly, then faced the Dream Team, eyeing them for a player.

"What about your best friend, Phernando?" King George said evilly, pointing at Dan. "Him."

Dan stared at the king's bony finger that was pointing at him in shock. He knew nothing about George, except for the fact that he was an utter dickhead.

Dan looked back at Doc, Alex and Aaron, who looked as panicked as he felt. His focus went back to Phil, who was slowly stepping off the podium. Dan made his way to where Phil formerly stood, breathing in and out in a failing attempt to calm himself down.

The room was silent as the wheel was spun, falling on a category that Dan didn't even pay attention to. He was already thinking about what it would feel like to die.

"King George once teamed up with Buddy De Sylva to create a Broadway musical. What was the name of this musical?"

Dan's mind went blank. He could feel himself hyperventilating, feel his tears beginning to prick his eyes. All he could see was George's evil smirk as the seconds passed by, until-

He remembered something.

_"Did you guys know King George The Third gained a collaboration with-"_

_"Phil, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but the shut the fuck up, it's too early."_

_"-Buddy de Sylva. Together, they completed 'La, La Lucille' which is their Broadway musical."_

Dan's face lit up when he remembered. He slammed his hand against the button so hard it hurt, but he didn't care. He knew the answer!

"La La Lucille!" Dan recited loudly before the last second of the minute passed. Phernando grinned widely.

"That's... correct. Congratulations. You have won-"

Dan didn't hear the rest of Phernando's sentence. He was already screaming in elation as the Dream Team did so too, and they all hugged him. They jumped up and down, shouting joyously to the rooftops.

Soon Phil was the only one left embracing him. In a moment of haste happiness, he pressed his lips against Phil's, kissing him softly.

King George was clapping along until he saw this. His expression changed from mild merriment to pure rage.

"What do you think you two are doing?!" He bellowed at Dan and Phil, who immediately pulled back from each other in shock.

"Sodomy! Execution for Sodomy!" Guards appeared at the doors, ready to take out whoever the king was shouting at.

"Guards! Take these two 'men' and have them executed first thing tomorrow morning! As for the others, kick them out of my palace! Including Phernando!"

Phernando gasped as he felt someone grab him by the back. Tears filled the corners of his eyes as he watched Dan and Phil, being dragged off the other way for execution.

That was all he remembered before he blacked out.

 


End file.
